The Other Takumi
by Mhai-kun
Summary: Nomiya Takumi and Mayama Takumi - two people who have the same first name. Twistedly, Nomiya is forever overshadowed by Mayama in Yamada Ayumi's eyes... but this time, he decides that he no longer wants to be just the "other" Takumi.
1. Chapter 1: Melancholic Midnight

It was getting late; so late that it was early. The digital clock on his desk behind him beeped an artificial blend of monotonous notes and told him it was precisely midnight. What a melancholic hour. The moon was full and the lines of car headlights on the streets below created an ever-changing neon rope that curved like brilliant streamers with the asphalt. The city was made of irregularly-shaped building blocks, each one glittering with the yellow and black squares he knew to be windows to the worlds of other, more carefree people, and the inky, star-spangled sky was a reverse black sea. He only wished the Ferris wheel were there, along with her, and then everything would be complete.

The wind from the open window blew through his hair and he reached into his breast pocket for an elastic band; why did it always have to tickle him like that? He held his cigarette in place between his teeth, the smoke rising in random spirals from the white stick of nicotine. He combed his hair back with his fingers and tied it into a stub of a ponytail at the base of his neck; it wasn't that long, anyway. Nomiya Takumi rubbed at the dark circles beneath his eyes and took a long drag from his cigarette. It felt satisfying after a long day of work. He had been sitting for so long in front of his computer that he thought his pants had fused with the upholstery of his chair, and he had pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose so many times that it felt a bit raw. Why had Yamazaki dumped all of his own work on _him_, for crying out loud? He had enough to be getting on with.

At present, Yamazaki was lying, face-down, on the couch, his glasses dangling off one ear and his mouth hanging open. He was drooling all over Nomiya's pillow. Just great — something else to dry-clean.

Nomiya put out his cigarette butt in the ash tray and sat back down in the swivel chair, his gaze trained on his ceiling fan, wondering what else there was to do at that time of night. There was no one to call, no one to talk to, no one to visit. Even most of the cafés he wanted to go to were closed now. He fiddled with his mouse, and the black, reflective screen came to life. His wallpaper was a picturesque scene of snow falling on the sand dunes in Tottori; he had downloaded it off the Internet. A few months ago he had been due to go there with Yamazaki to work on a German restaurant that Luigi had picked for its "romantic atmosphere", but the trip had been canceled because of the bad weather there. Nomiya moved the mouse over to a folder marked "pictures" and clicked on it twice. A window popped into view, and Nomiya scrolled through the seemingly endless photos of the same thing: a towering Ferris wheel that glowed a different luminescent color in each shot. The backgrounds varied too, ranging from late afternoon to evening, from pink to orange to indigo. Looking at them was calming, but the real thing would have been a lot better. However, the building from which he liked to watch it wasn't within walking distance, and at any rate his legs felt too dead to engage themselves in any form of exercise.

At the very bottom of the "pictures" window, in the lower right corner, was a picture of Yamada Ayumi sleeping. Even though the thumbnail was tiny, Nomiya could clearly remember the details: She was slumped against a bar table, smiling like an idiot, her petite white hand clenched around an ice-cold glass of hard liquor. She had drunken herself stupid the last time he had taken her out for a drink, and her expression was so hilarious that taking a photo of her with his mobile phone was simply irresistible — though the other men around him had told him off for "toying with his girlfriend", he had replied that he wouldn't let her see it. He'd allowed her to sleep for a bit longer and jokingly asked the bartender to give him something "lighter than what she got" before he hoisted her onto his back, bid the other bar-goers farewell, and left for his car. It was lucky nobody else knew about it, though, because Miwako-san would tease him to death, and Mayama would probably come at him with a pair of kitchen shears.

Without really meaning to, Nomiya clicked on the photo — the pointer had already been hovering over it — and it enlarged itself. There she was, suspended in another embarrassing moment of liquor-related unconsciousness, this time caught on camera and immortalized for as long as Nomiya kept his files safe. Her corn silk-like hair had been swept to one side and her delicate hand looked too petite for pottery. But when Nomiya looked past her idiotic expression, he saw someone breakable. He could never shake off the feeling that she would shatter if he tried to touch her, that she would go far away if he turned around. She was very hard to hold onto, Yamada, as though she were sand that would slip right through his fingers if he wasn't careful.

He closed the window and then stared intently at the wireless telephone next to the clock. Twelve oh-nine.

Yamada was hopelessly in love with Mayama Takumi. What could Nomiya do about that? She was forever chasing after the man who shared Nomiya's first name, but to no avail; Mayama was after someone, too, though _she_ was someone entirely out of his league. Nomiya didn't know what good would come of their roundabout relationships, but he didn't count himself as part of the equation. He was just another stray strand that independently connected itself to the intricate web of the others' emotions. He pointlessly — and willingly — existed in that web to make things more complicated. However, he was already acquainted with Mayama because they had once been colleagues, and very recently he had taken to hiring Yamada on a regular basis for work, so the web wasn't inaccurate. But Nomiya's connections with Yamada were — to her, anyway — strictly business-related. It was true that she was a skilled potter, and she was very pleasant to be with, so whenever he called her down it was always enjoyable. They had even become close enough that she had allowed him to drop the honorific and simply call her "Yamada". She, however, was too polite to do the same with him. The downside to being around her so much was that Miwako-san made it her business to catch Nomiya in the act of falling for Yamada, but she was only a child. She was too young to know what it was she really wanted. It wouldn't be fair for Nomiya to take advantage of her confusion.

But whenever she turned to him for help, whenever she buried her face in her soft arms and cried her heart out, whenever she smiled her martyr's smile, Nomiya didn't only feel pity, but senseless longing. He longed to reach out to her and tell her that everything was going to be all right. He wanted to act like the cool guy again and say, "Come on, stop that. Take my hand and let's watch the Ferris wheel until dawn. Then maybe, if you're lucky, I'll buy you some ice cream."

Unfortunately, he was in no position to do so. He was too _busy_ being the "cool" guy. He had no time for romance anymore, not when there was just so much to do. Yamada would only get caught up in the sleepless nights and the mugs of scalding, strong coffee. She deserved to spread her wings and soar as high as they could take her, and Nomiya didn't want to be a liability. She was already being weighed down by the heavy burden she carried inside her, the invisible locket that held only Mayama's picture. What was the point of her suffering? Mayama would never look twice at her that way, was that so hard to accept?

Deciding that it was too early for him to understand her in full, Nomiya wrenched his eyes way from the rubber dials on the phone, shut his computer down, stuffed bits of rolled-up cotton up one of Yamazaki's nostrils, and went back to the window to wait for the sun to rise.

* * *

><p>When Yamazaki awoke (he was oblivious to the cotton up his nose), Nomiya had already prepared coffee and was whistling tunelessly as he typed away on the PC; he was just lucky he hadn't spewed coffee all over the screen yet — Yamazaki looked hilarious.<p>

Another morning at the office. Coupled with the tacking noises of the keyboard, the noise outside just bordered on "bearable." The incessantly twittering birds? Not so much.

"Hey, sleepyhead. You're going to have to pay for getting your saliva off that cushion," Nomiya said by way of morning greeting.

Yamazaki scratched his head and yawned. "'Mornin', Nomiya. Sorry for last night, I just felt so _wasted_, y'know? Like I was gonna die if I did any more work." He sounded like he had a cold with the cotton still in.

Nomiya's smile was sunny when he said, "And you're going to have to pay me back for that, too. It's a week's worth of takeout dinners or I tell Miwako-san you've been slacking."

Yamazaki sighed in resignation and shuffled over to get some caffeine into his system. "You can be really evil, you know that, Nomiya?"

"Just doing my job," Nomiya replied, taking a sip of the stuff himself.

"Did you even try to catch some sleep?" Yamazaki said. "You're gonna die too if you keep that up. You look hideous."

"Yeah, thanks for pointing that out." The circles under his eyes could have been bruises. He knew he needed some shut-eye, but how could he get any if Yamazaki was too lazy to do his fair share of money-earning?

Yamazaki was thoughtful for a moment, and then he seemed to decide something. "I think you need a nice long break. Tell you what — I'll take care of everything around here, as long as you promise to have yourself a nice time this weekend. I'll make sure to tell Miwako-san. I'm pretty sure she'd be on my side if she were here."

Oh, that's right, it was Saturday…. That's why Miwako-san hadn't come to the office yesterday; she'd said that she was going on a mini-vacation with her friends that weekend, and Nomiya hadn't noticed its arrival. It had been quite a while since Nomiya spent his weekends with a woman. Not that he minded, of course, but why couldn't he remember what he did to fill the barrenness of his single life when he wasn't at the office? Well, when he thought about it, those women were all the same to him anyway, really. Lovely words. That was all he shared with them.

"What do you expect me to do? Frolic in a field of wildflowers? Go ice-skating? Go for a swim in the local pool?" Nomiya asked sardonically.

"Well, if you don't mind looking like you're thirteen and new to the world of girls and peeking up their skirts, you could. But I was sort of thinking you might like to take Yamada-san out. You've been wanting to call her, haven't you? But since she doesn't have a cellphone and you're afraid to call her family's store because of her dad, you haven't really been able to talk to her since the last time she came over. I'm right, right?"

Despite Nomiya's irritation that Yamazaki, as dense as he was, had seen through him so easily, he maintained his aloof façade and said, "Maybe you were imagining things, Yamazaki, and exactly what kind of guy do you think I am? I wouldn't look up a girl's skirt. But I guess I _will_ take her out. Yamada, I mean. I don't think she has any work, so I might as well. Thanks for the suggestion."

Yamazaki made a "pfft" noise and grinned mischievously. He could have grown devil horns and a tail right then and there and it wouldn't have surprised Nomiya. "'Suggestion,' my ass. Now run along."

Nomiya turned and headed down the hall. Since Yamazaki couldn't see him, he smiled too — one of Yamazaki's cotton plugs had fallen out. "Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>Nomiya returned home for a nice cold shower and a change of clothes; he had been starting to smell like smoke and stale beer. He also tried making himself some real breakfast by frying up some eggs, but they fell apart and were charred in some places, so he couldn't say that it was the best breakfast he'd ever had. Nevertheless, with his stomach less empty and his mind less foggy he felt that it wouldn't hurt to take Yamazaki up on his offer. The previous night, when he had been staring at the telephone, he had been contemplating whether or not to just buy Yamada her own cellphone so that communication — of both the personal and business kinds — would become easier. The catch was that he didn't know exactly what Yamada's father would make out of his giving her such an expensive present. He had seen him once before, and Nomiya wasn't so sure he'd like "Daddy Yamada's" finely-toned muscles anywhere near him.<p>

The first place Nomiya went to was the bakery. It was very warm inside, filled with the enticing scents of freshly-baked goods and powdered sugar. He picked out some delicious-smelling cream rolls for Yamada and a mocha bun for himself. Next he drove down to the art college, where he figured Yamada would want to go. It was still pretty early, and it was a weekend, but it seemed sensible to check. It was like her second home.

He dropped by the pottery department, and it came as no surprise to him when he found Yamada sitting at her usual potter's wheel, her features arranged into a look of determined concentration. She was wearing a sleeveless white summer shirt and light blue jeans, and she had put her hair up in a neat bun at the back of her head. She had also thrown a fluffy towel around her shoulders to absorb her perspiration. Beads of sweat rolled down the side of her face and she took a deep breath. She was an entirely different person when she was there, in her element, surrounded by those wondrous objects she had created, and for a few minutes Nomiya did nothing but stand at the door and watch her, clutching at the bag of bread. He was hypnotized by the spin of the wheel. At some point, however, Yamada looked up to wipe the sweat out of her eyes and saw him, breaking the spell.

Smiling, she waved and motioned for him to come in.

"Good morning, Nomiya-san," she said brightly. "What brings you here today? Got any new work for me?"

Nomiya shook his head and sat himself down on a plastic chair he pulled up. "Nah, nothing like that. On the contrary, I actually came to ask you to spend a relaxing weekend with me."

"Huh?" Yamada drew the towel away from her face and proceeded to wipe her hands on her apron, looking curious. "What for?"

Nomiya opened the bread bag with the crisp sound of rustling paper and offered her a cream roll. "Yamazaki thinks I've been working too hard and said that I should take the weekend off. And I thought you might be free, so you know, why not? I'm only following orders."

She smiled and took the roll. "That's really nice of you, thanks a lot! Especially for thinking of me. I've been meaning to have a little break myself, but I haven't had the chance." She took a bite out of the pastry and seemed to like the taste. "Oh, wow, this is really good! Where did you get it?"

"I stopped by the Flourdust bakery on my way here and thought you might be hungry." He rummaged in the bag for his lone mocha bun and took a bite of it as well. At least it was better than his burned-egg breakfast.

"How did you know I would be here, anyway?" she asked thickly, her mouth full of roll.

Nomiya shrugged. "Instinct, I guess. But I'm pretty good, huh?"

"Sure are."

"I've got some more of that for you here, if you want," Nomiya said, seeing that Yamada had finished off her first and was eyeing the paper bag discreetly.

She blushed. It was a beautiful color on her. "O-oh, thanks very much."

She took another one and Nomiya's attention was won over by the vase she had been making. It was very plain, but it was obvious that the craftsmanship was that of an expert, someone who had been working at the wheel for years. Yamada was extremely skilled for her age. "Is this one for recreational purposes?" he said, nodding towards it.

She shook her head. "Rika-san requested it last Wednesday. It's just this one piece. I started it this morning."

"Is it done?"

"Pretty much," Yamada answered, licking some cream off her sticky fingers. The rolls were coated with a thin layer of honey. She titled her head to one side and appraised her work, as though Nomiya's comment had reminded her of its presence. "What do you think? It's not too ordinary, is it?"

Nomiya adjusted his glasses. "Do you want a critical answer or a kind one?"

Yamada's jaw was set. "Critical, please."

He cupped his chin with his right hand and smiled. "You're gutsy. That's going to take you very far in this business. Anyway, about this piece… I have to admit that it _is_ ordinary." Yamada took a sharp intake of breath. "But ordinary pieces of pottery aren't uncommon, and when have I ever disliked your work? It's amazing as usual, Yamada. Don't worry."

"You didn't have to scare me like that," Yamada sighed with relief. "But thank _goodness_. I thought that since it was a teensy bit hurried it would show. I suppose I was just paying too much attention to the little things. Anyway, I should get going, I was supposed to deliver it as soon as I was done. I can come back for you here, if you like."

"What are you talking about?" Nomiya said briskly. "I can drive you there. It's better than walking or taking a taxi, right?"

"I'd really appreciate that." Her returning smile would have been undeniably pretty had it not been for the small white spot at the corner of her mouth.

Stifling a laugh, Nomiya fished his checked handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to wipe the cream away. "Are you an elementary school student or something? Still unable to eat without a mess at the tender age of twenty-two."

Yamada turned pink. "It's not like I could _feel _it. And it's really hard to keep the cream in when you bite into the roll, okay?"

Nomiya chuckled. "All right, all right. I'll be waiting outside. You fix up here and we'll be at Harada Design before you know it."

* * *

><p>Yamada, who had changed into a more formal, collared white blouse, handed over the earthen vase to Rika-san, talking about how grateful she was that Rika-san had trusted her enough to call on her again for such an important order. Looking over Rika-san's head, Nomiya saw that the Harada Design office was neat and orderly, nothing fancy. Just a few desks and two sleek desktop computers, one for her and another for her… assistant, who was probably somewhere inside. There must have been a kitchen, too, because Nomiya could smell sizzling sausages. It made his mouth water.<p>

So this was where the famous Harada Rika spent her days.

Appearance-wise, Rika-san looked like the embodiment of Yamada's internal turmoil. She was leaning against a metal crunch, which, in Yamada's case, Nomiya supposed represented himself. Rika-san was physically fragile and seemed so insubstantial that a single drizzle would probably wash her into oblivion. Even her voice was soft — it was barely audible, but something about it made you want to lean in and listen to what she had to say. It was like a whisper that promised you secrets.

Rika-san was thanking Yamada now for her effort, as well as praising the beauty of her piece. Yamada could only thank her, in all modesty, for her kindness and ask her not to hesitate requesting her services again. Nomiya wondered how far Yamada's mind was really flying, as well as where it was planning to drift. Whether she was thinking about Mayama, if he was here, if he had had a good night's sleep, if he had already eaten breakfast…

And as though on cue, Mayama emerged from the edge of the doorjamb just beyond their line of sight. His black-framed glasses, a striped light green polo shirt, and khaki pants. He looked just as dorky as Nomiya remembered, like he was trying too hard to look manly. Was he really jealous of _this _guy?

"Rika-san, have you seen the extension plug for the microwave? I can't quite get it to —" He stopped dead when he saw Nomiya, then his eyes shifted to Yamada, who, in spite of herself, couldn't help but look back at him. Pained, unspoken words hung in the static that kept them apart, threatening to explode and shower them all with letters. The room suddenly got twenty degrees colder. Nomiya felt Nomiya stiffen and hold her breath. It was starting again.

The breaking.

Why did it have to happen so soon?

"Oh, Mayama-kun," Rika-san said. "The extension is in the drawer next to the cutlery, under the coil of wire. Yamada-san just came by the drop this off." She had pointedly neglected to mention Nomiya. "Could you take this to my room, please? And remind me to send an e-mail to Kotobuki-san. I need to let him know that since we have the vase he asked for, the designs will be ready by Tuesday at the latest."

Mayama forced himself out of his frozen trance. "O-of course." He walked over to her, very carefully took the piece from her thin hands while averting his eyes from the two intruders, and left.

"I do apologize, Nomiya-san," Rika-san said sincerely once he was out of earshot. "But as you have seen, Mayama-kun is a bit… uncomfortable when you're with Yamada-san. I wasn't sure how I could help. I'm terribly sorry for being meddlesome."

Nomiya, startled that someone so famous would know about someone insignificant like him, shook his head. "Think nothing of it, Rika-san. I'm used to Mayama acting like that."

Rika-san nodded, looking doubtful, and made a small bow to the pair of them. "Thank you very much for going through all this trouble. Yamada-san, I hope to see you again. And as for Nomiya-san, it's been nice meeting you."

At this, Nomiya took Yamada's hand and they took their leave. On their way out of the building, it was all Nomiya could do to keep Yamada's hand from shaking.

* * *

><p>Cumulous clouds — impossibly white and fluffy and so unrealistic against a robin's-egg-blue sky that they could have driven themselves right into the pages of a children's picture book. The birds, too, looked like small black M's cutting through the air. Or maybe they looked more like mustaches.<p>

Yamada had not spoken a word since they had left Harada Design, and Nomiya did not force her to speak. She had still consented to spend the weekend with him, and she did not revoke her answer. Instead she sat with her head bowed. Several times Nomiya had tried turning on the radio to make the silence less suffocating, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He got the feeling Yamada would say something at any moment. He knew that because he knew _her_.

"…was expecting it," she muttered. Her voice was so quiet and so hollow that she could have been a hundred feet away, or maybe even on the other side of the world. She was in _that _place again, that wretched place in her mind, purposely making herself suffer, burning the image of Rika-san and Mayama together into the back of her eyelids so that she could watch them forever, even in her sleep...

"Expecting what?" Nomiya kept his eyes on the road.

"Him to come out," Yamada finished softly. "If I talked loud enough, I knew somehow he would come. Maybe the thing with the extension plug was just a ruse to see if it was really me, or maybe it was a coincidence. He feels sorry for me, anyone can see that, and I love it when he worries. But… why am I sad again?"

This seemed to be a recurring theme when they were together: him at the wheel, her sobbing into the folds of her skirt. On this occasion, for a change, she was wearing pants. She was clutching at the tight fabric so hard that she could have wounded herself.

Nomiya noticed a poor bug splatter itself against his windshield, and for whatever reason it irritated him to no end. He wished he could reach right through the glass and wipe it off.

"I accepted that request because I wanted to keep improving," she continued, her voice only getting quieter. "But deep down I knew only did it so that I could have some other excuse to go and see h-him." She began to hiccup. "I-I knew it was s-stupid but I couldn't _h-help _myself. I m-missed him. Why d-d-do I keep _doing _this to myself, Nomiya-s-san? It's t-torturing me but I keep d-doing it."

"You're doing it because you love him."

And even Nomiya recognized Yamada's agony for what it was, because he felt the same thing for her. He denied it in company, but alone he understood himself well. It wasn't healthy for him to cling to Yamada and say that he's only there to console her, because he was selfish. He wanted her for himself, he wanted to monopolize her time in such a way that he managed to play the part of the "good guy friend". He gradually gained a sick sort of pleasure from having her near, from seeing that her efforts to make Mayama return her affection were fruitless. It wasn't easy to watch her beat herself up, but it was necessary if he wanted to win her over. He thought that it was only a matter of time before she completely let go and turned to Nomiya for comfort. He was her safe harbor, and he was playing it for all it was worth. It wasn't sane, but he kept wanting to do it too.

He and Yamada were just the same. They were kindred souls, bound by their rejected feelings.

If he could, he would have torn his gaze away from the bug and told her that he — the other Takumi, the one she _didn't_ want — would always be there for her. But he just let her cry like he always had, cursing himself for being restrained by his crooked, overprotective mentality.

* * *

><p>Yaaaay~! Here's my next story. ouo<br>I sure hope there are a lot of NomiYamada fans on the Internet, because I ADORE these two~! ^u^  
>So yes. Is this good enough? Feh, I tried really hard to come up with a good title, but I still keep pulling blanks. Is this title good enough? Maybe...? Perhaps? I guess? *dies*<br>Reviews or private messages will be greatly appreciated. ^^


	2. Chapter 2: Untethered Balloon

"So where do you want to go first?"

The time it had taken to calm Yamada down and stop her from getting off at every shop they passed that sold beer was considerably lengthy, but because they were together it seemed to take no time at all. However painful it was for Nomiya to see her hurting, he had to stand his ground.

"Well," Yamada said, now eating yet another cream roll. Wasn't she getting tired of those yet? And Nomiya kind of wanted a taste. "I kind of just want to go somewhere lovely and peaceful. Do you know any places like that?"

_Why, how considerate of you for narrowing it down_. How many places around Tokyo were lovely and peaceful?

"Don't you have anything more… specific in mind?"

"Nope," Yamada said. "Nowhere in particular. Hmm, I think I've gotten addicted to this bread. I've got to remember to go to that bakery again sometime, I've got a friend in the shopping district who would _love _this. Flourdust, right? Would you mind drawing me a map?"

"Maybe later," Nomiya replied, thinking hard about all the places he had — and hadn't — been to, assessing them in his mind's eye with the following criteria: first, lovely; second, peaceful. The amusement park was out of the question, since it would probably be jammed with rowdy kids and their families, gaggles of students playing around, and of course the lovey-dovey teenage couples who happened to be everywhere these days. The Ferris wheel would be a good idea, but was at its most beautiful in the evening, when it looked like a stationary firework. The beach would be nice too, but it was just too hot. And what would they do there, bake in their clothes while the others sunbathed and splashed around in the water wearing skimpy bathing suits? Besides, Nomiya didn't like the feeling of damp sand sticking itself up his trunks and settling in… well, inappropriate places. A spa would undoubtedly be relaxing, but since he was a man and she a woman, they would be separated the whole time.

"Sorry, Yamada," Nomiya said finally, after a thorough bullying of his brain, "it's a no-go — my mind keeps running blanks. I've no idea where we should head, really. Sometimes just taking a drive is good enough for me, but somehow with the two of us I don't think it's going to be much fun."

"O-oh…" Yamada's face fell and she turned her head on the pretext of looking at the sparkling sea to her left.

And then Nomiya realized his mistake. He was grown man but he still didn't know how to use words. "Ah, but I didn't mean that the wrong way. I only meant that you would probably want to do something less boring than just sitting in the passenger's seat. Your legs are gonna get stiff, too."

When Yamada turned back to him, she was trying not to laugh. Her eyes were watering with the effort, and for a fraction of a second Nomiya was afraid that she was about to cry again. But she put up her fore- and middle-fingers in a victory sign. "Haha! I was only kidding you!"

Defeated at his own game by a child. Not bad.

* * *

><p>Nomiya wasn't really thinking about where he was going. He kept making random turns and taking unfamiliar roads, hoping that they would lead him and Yamada someplace interesting. He had steered them into a residential area somewhere far away from where they had come from, and then he was completely lost.<p>

"Nomiya-san? Is there someone you know here?" Yamada inquired. Nomiya had lent her his jacket because she commented that his SUV's A/C was too cold for her. It reminded him of the time he had stumbled upon her wearing that Mayama's coat. It was several sizes too large for her, but she had been smiling. The sky had been a brilliant orange behind her, making her look like she was standing against a blazing fire. The coat must have been warm, and it must have smelled like heaven. His shampoo, his cologne, maybe even the scent of just _him_. She had been peaceful then.

That was before she started inflicting pain on herself to make her realize that her love was going nowhere.

"No," Nomiya replied. "I'm just looking for a gas station." He pointed to the gauge: the arrow was dangerously close to E. "We're running low."

When they had found one, Nomiya loaded it up and parked it beside three vending machines on the far side of the station. He dropped a few coins in and got Yamada a strawberry yoghurt drink; he decided she should lay off the alcohol for a while. For himself he chose a latté — the more caffeine the better. They sat themselves against the hood of the car and tried to go for some easy conversation.

"How's life been for you lately, Yamada?" Nomiya asked casually, opening his can and swilling the contents around.

"I've been fine," Yamada answered. She sipped her milky beverage thoughtfully. "I've been doing freelance work for the past few weeks in addition to helping Dad man the store. I've made him a few sake sets to sell, too. He really liked them and he said the customers thought it was a 'creative strategy'. What about you?"

"Oh, just more Luigi. We had originally planned to go to Tottori, but we never pushed through with it. So instead he begged me to help him design some museum lobby. He did this really weird thing by making puppy dog eyes at me and for some reason I just couldn't say no." Nomiya rolled his eyes. "Yamazaki was supposed to be my partner, but last night he came back to the office all tipsy, and he just went and asked me to take care of his share. Then he dumped himself on the couch and slept like a log."

Yamada giggled. "That sounds just like him."

"And I don't think that's a good thing," Nomiya sighed. "Still, I would have loved to see the sand dunes up there."

She titled her head to one side, curious. "Sand dunes?"

He nodded. "In Tottori. They're amazing, and they're right next to the sea. And in winter they're all covered in snow. I'll show you a picture sometime."

"Snow on sand dunes? That's weird."

"Weird but beautiful."

"You haven't been pushing yourself too hard, though, have you?" Yamada then asked, turning abruptly concerned.

"Since I didn't sleep a wink last night, you be the judge." Nomiya gulped down a generous amount of his latté and sighed. "That's sure hits the spot."

"W-what?" Yamada had finally entered panic mode; he had been waiting for this. She was about to stand when her heel made her stumble and she slid down the hood. Her ankle seemed all right, but she had still made a fool of herself. To mask her clumsiness, she twiddled her thumbs and bit her lip, the epitome of anxiety. "You didn't sleep and you're _driving_? Oh no, oh no, oh no, we should get you home. You need a bed and some sleeping pills, I can't have you staying up all afternoon, it's naptime! I'm going to find us a taxi, oka —?"

"Yamada, relax," Nomiya said calmly. He was sliding his middle finger around the lip of his can. "I've pulled plenty of all-nighters. It's just part of the job. Don't blow your top over it."

Yamada lowered her eyes; her lashes were so long that they cast shadows on her cheeks. "You always do that. You _need_ this weekend. Why did you have to take me with you? You could have spent it resting."

Nomiya had taken another draft from his latté, and at this he looked up, pleasant surprise lighting up his eyes. "Oho. How very rare. You just said the word 'you' five times, and not a single 'I'. Well, there was that one 'me', but what gives?"

"Eh?"

He drained the last of the light brown liquid from the can and threw it towards the cartoon sky. It made a couple of somersaults, glinting in the afternoon sun, before he snatched it out of the air, threw it down, and kicked it around. He hoped he looked cool, because Yamada's eyes were glued to him.

"Usually it's all about you when you talk. It's always 'I' can't take this anymore, 'I' really love him, 'I', 'I', 'I', 'me', 'me', 'me'. Don't you think you're being selfish? What about me? Don't _I_ have problems, too? Don't _I _deserve to whine every now and again?" He paused, allowing it to sink in. "Self-centered people like you really… sicken me, you know that?"

It was like she was suspended in time. His words were probably echoing over and over again inside her head like a sadistic metronome. Her hand went slack and she spilled strawberry yoghurt all over her clothes. The baby pink blossomed over the front of her white shirt. It was like watching a carnation being dyed.

Yamada's eyes were wide with shock, and she was gazing directly at him. But it was clear that she couldn't see anything past what she was seeing in her imagination.

Nomiya kept his face blank. After a few seconds of their staring contest, though, he decided he had to give in; the poor thing looked like she was just about ready to die. "You," he said, suddenly grabbing her forearm and making his voice sound commanding and powerful so that she gasped with fright, "look like a kid when you're upset." He grinned widely and kicked the can up high enough for him to catch it with his free hand. "Don't take things too seriously, Yamada, or you'll get ugly."

She turned red again and she tore her arm from his grip, infuriated that she had let him get to her. He had really done it now. He knew he had crossed some invisible line. "W-what's _with _you, Nomiya-san? Why're you being so _mean_? You really _scared _me! T-that wasn't funny at _all_! Oh gosh, I wish I'd just stayed _home_ if I knew you were just going to torture me!"

Nomiya patted her head. "Now, now, let's not be hasty, little girl. You've gotta admit, though, you were being pretty silly. How can I possibly hate you? It's unthinkable." He squeezed her hand, reassuring her that he was still on her side.

"Sheesh, I've got _feelings_, you know," she replied icily.

"Fine, I'm sorry, okay? I'm an idiot and a devil and I'm a horrible, horrible man for treating a lady this way. I should be skewered on the end of a stake and roasted alive for my heinous crimes. Am I forgiven?"

"Hmph! Whatever!" But since she returned the pressure on his hand, Nomiya was positive that she had excused him. They got back into the SUV and left the joke in the dust behind them.

And however cruelly Nomiya acted, he learned one thing that gave him hope: Yamada was afraid of him hating her.

* * *

><p>"So… what you're trying to tell me is that… we're lost. Utterly lost. No food and no extra clothes, just the ones we have on our backs and a bit of money. Did I get that right?"<p>

"Just about, yeah."

Yamada narrowed her eyes and pouted. "Is this your idea of a 'fun' weekend? We might as _well _just stay in the car."

Nomiya was trying to come up with a reasonable excuse when he they drove past a fairly large playground. There were lots of children, naturally — all probably under the age of nine — and also a few parents scattered here and there, but it wasn't crowded, and there were some small stalls that sold food. There were plenty of trees too, and the fresh air would do them both good.

_Hmm… This could do._

He didn't say a word as Yamada ranted on about how she wished she'd at least brought a toothbrush, searching for the nearest place he could park.

"Why did you pull over?" Yamada asked when he parked between a lamp post and a mini-van a few streets down.

In reply, Nomiya took two elastic bands from the never-ending supply in his glove compartment and unbuckled Yamada's belt. He unbuckled his and twisted his torso around so that he was facing her. He grabbed her shoulders and started pushing her, but she resisted.

"Uhh… What do you think you're doing?"

"Oi, quit wriggling," Nomiya said crossly. "I'm going to do your hair, so face the window and _sit still_. I'm having a hard enough time as it is."

"Huh? My hair?"

In a few minutes Yamada's hair had been parted into two simple braids. Nomiya leaned back against the driver's side door and admired his handiwork. It was neat, but not perfect. When he looked closer, he saw the little bits of fluffy hair at the base of her head. If he reached out and touched them, what would she say to that?

"Not bad, if I do say so myself," he said. He combed his fringe back experimentally and looked at his reflection in the mirror. "I've only ever done a braid once, and it actually turned out well. And if I do _my _hair like _this_…My plan _might_ just work."

Yamada stroked one of her braids. "What might work? What's this for, anyway? Were you getting bored? Decided to abandon Fujiwara Design and set up a salon?"

Nomiya grinned. "No, no. It has to do with a little pranking."

* * *

><p>Nomiya wasn't quite sure what had motivated Yamada to be a part of his scheme, but since she had made no objections, they were doing a little play. Today Nomiya was a twenty-something-year-old father who had adopted Yamada, his twenty-two-year-old "little" girl, a few months ago (the braids were for an added youthful effect), and this was their special "father-daughter bonding time". He claimed that he was a complete amateur at raising a kid, so he felt that this, the playground, was the first place they should visit. To complete the scenario, Nomiya had bought Yamada cotton candy, an ice pop, and a heart-shaped balloon. The point of the game? Simple: to see how many people they could fool by the time they left. So far they had managed to trick a handful of passing high schoolers and around three or four toddlers.<p>

"This feels really stupid," Yamada confessed, but she was giggling pretty hard.

They had taken a break and were having an afternoon snack of ham-and-cheese sandwiches and soda. The ham was filling. Yamada was sitting at the top of a giraffe slide (she'd insisted on climbing up because she'd said she hadn't used one since she was in elementary school) and Nomiya was on one end of a see-saw. Passersby stared at them and whispered behind their hands, most likely wondering what two adults were doing at a playground. Some toddlers pointed at them and asked their mothers why "those grown-ups were playing there", but their mothers only shushed them and hurried them away. They must have thought he and Yamada had escaped from some mental institution.

He chuckled softly, enjoying the private joke. "But you've got to admit you're having fun."

"Yeah, I kind of am." Yamada was hugging her knees to her torso. "Still, don't you think it's mean for us to lie to so many people?"

"'Many' people? We probably tricked around eight of them in total. That's not very much, really, and I doubt they'll remember it by tomorrow. They'll see some bunny mascot parading around the square and then poof — we might as well have been invisible."

"I guess you're right." She crumpled up the wrappings of her sandwich into a ball and tossed it between her hands. The balloon he'd bought her was tied to her wrist and floated a foot above the crown of her head, swaying with each little movement.

Nomiya wondered what it must feel like to be a balloon, held only to mortality by a lowly string. If that string were cut, then there were no more limitations. The balloon could fly as high and far as it wanted — with one hitch: it wouldn't be able to control the direction in which it floated. It would wander aimlessly forever, the silent, ephemeral spectator of all the worldly splendor the earth and the heavens had to offer, able only to contain the images before it. Would the balloon wish that it could paint the images into its memory so that they wouldn't go away no matter how far it drifted? So that it could console itself with glorious magnificence in the empty void of its companionless existence? That probably would have made its solidarity more endurable. But what if it was only doing so to punish itself for letting the string break in the first place?

What if Yamada would never forgive herself for painting those images into _her_ memory…?

Nomiya was so lost in thought, so lost in the painful labyrinth of his worry for this pathless girl, that he missed her face brighten as though she'd gotten an idea.

"Here, catch!"

And she lobbed the crumpled-up sandwich wrappings at Nomiya's head.

Thinking fast, Nomiya leaned to his left, put up his right hand, and caught it perfectly. Smiling in a smug sort of way, he said, "So you think you could try and one-up _me_, huh? Nice try, kiddo."

"You think so? Head's up!"

_Thonk!_

"GAH!"

Nomiya's hair was dripping wet with soda, and Yamada burst out laughing when he spluttered and tried to get some of it out of his eyelashes. She'd thrown her half-full drink at him while he was still relishing his victory with the sandwich wrappings. What a dirty trick. She was so proud of herself that she was even banging her fist against the stone slide, hysterical. "Hahaha, so much for being cool!" she said, giggling. "Hahaha! Now you're all wet!"

"Yeah, well, _two _can play at that game!"

_Splash!_

"Aaahh!"

"How do you like the taste of your own medicine?" Nomiya said moodily, trying to squeeze the soda out of his hair. "This is going to take _ages_ to clean up."

Yamada slid down to the ground and smiled. "If you think _you've _got it bad just take a look at me!"

Nomiya did: her blouse was now a psychedelic, swirly mix of pink and purple (his soda was grape-flavored) and her braids were soaked through. Her skin was glistening with the soda and it looked sticky. But she was definitely happy. Wasn't she? She wasn't yelling at him or reprimanding him for ruining her clothes, making her look stupid, or any of the other things his past girlfriends had blamed him for. She wasn't like the others. She was very simple, to be honest, with almost no glamour at all. A plain Jane, in other words. What she _did _have was talent and wit — which were both useless in her hard battle against that enemy whom she so desperately adored. Going after Mayama again and again no matter how many times she was turned down was going to kill her someday. She was such an idiot when it came to love. It made her nothing but blind, deaf, and dumb — and so much more beautiful that Nomiya ached to be with her.

Mayama had always accused him of being a playboy because of his looks, skill, and personality. But at some point Nomiya had found out that Mayama actually envied him. What, because of the number of girls he had hurt? The long list of women's cellphone numbers he updated at least twice a month? What was there to be jealous of? Was "coolness" and "maturity" measured by the number of people you stepped on? Did Mayama honestly think that by being a carbon-copy of Nomiya he could make Rika-san see him as a man?

The women Nomiya had dated were shallow and stereotypical. Make-up, perfume, fur coats, and roses. They were drawn to him like moths to a flame. What did they think was so amazing about him? Why did they find him alluring?

_"Takumi-kun, let's go out for dinner! And then maybe we could… do something fun at your place afterwards...?"_

_ "Nomiya-chan, I thought we were together? Why do you keep ignoring me? Don't you think I'm cute anymore?"_

_ "Takumi, I got you a present! It cost me an arm and a leg, but I wanted you to have it. Isn't it _beautiful_?"_

_ "Takumi, how could you do this to me? All I ever did was love you! What does _she_ have that I don't?"_

_ "Nomiya-sama, let's go far away from here. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Will you please accept me?"_

"What a waste of braids…," Yamada said, bringing Nomiya abruptly back to reality. Sticky, orange-scented reality. Urgh, the orange smell was too concentrated that it stung his eyes and nose.

Yamada shrugged. "At least my shirt looks pretty. I'm kind of like one of Hagu-chan's mixing palettes." She held out her arms. "Could you help me up?"

Tucking his own sandwich wrappings into his pocket, Nomiya got off the see-saw and extended his arm. Yamada grabbed it with both hands and pulled herself into a standing position, her heels digging into the soft ground. She let go and wrung some excess soda from her shirt.

"There. Now I won't drip all over your car seats."

_What's with the sudden optimism? _Nomiya thought. _Did attacking me with a carbonated drink lift her spirits?_

"Well, we should get back to the car," he said. The sun was already beginning to set. He retrieved his garbage from his pocket and glanced around for a trash bin. He stretched out his palm. "Give me your trash, too. I'll take care of them."

After he had dealt with the trash, he led her to the SUV. They were only a few meters away from it when he heard Yamada gasp quietly behind him. He turned and saw her bending forward, inspecting her feet.

"What's up? Tired already?"

"I've got blisters on my heels," she said sheepishly. "I had a feeling wearing these would be a bad idea. I wanted to bring my sneakers, but Dad said he'd washed them, and all my other shoes are just like these."

Nomiya watched as she undid the clasps on her open-toed, high-heeled sandals and gingerly massaged her red skin. Her fingers were graceful, each a ballerina dancing to one melody. And her neck was so thin, he hadn't noticed it before. Had she always been this slight? Was she eating properly? Was he seeing these things — the small signs of weakness — because she wasn't worrying about being strong for once?

While she was preoccupied with soothing her aching feet, he picked her up and took her shoes from her.

She flushed immediately. "I — I can _walk_!" She made a snatch for the shoes but Nomiya held them at arm's length where she couldn't reach them. "I just need some band-aids, that's all." She tried to push herself away from him, but he wouldn't let her. "Nomiya-san, I'm not a kid!"

Of course she was. Kids were rash and thoughtless, and when they were in love they acted foolishly. She was precisely that.

Nomiya smirked. "According to our pretend background, you are. You're my daughter, aren't you? Doesn't your daddy have the right to carry you if your feet hurt?"

Yamada had nothing to say to that.

* * *

><p>Woohoo~! Chapter 2~! ^ 7 ^<br>It seems Honey and Clover isn't too popular, thought. What a shame... And the plot's so nice, too... Ah, well. At least this fanfic makes me proud!  
>I'm going to try and update the chapters once every other day, so those of you who support this pairing please watch out for them! Thank you very much for your attention~ *bow*<p> 


	3. Chapter 3: Life Preserver

The sun had sunk lower, and they were still pretty lost, so Nomiya decided to ask the locals for an inn. Unfortunately, every one they managed to locate was fully booked, so he had to keep asking. And each time he returned to the car, Yamada asked him in an exasperated voice why he didn't just ask for directions back to Tokyo. But Nomiya finally struck home when an elderly couple pointed him to one that was only a few blocks away.

"There's always at least one room available," the old woman said. She was leaning on a knobbly wooden cane.

"Yes. It's inexpensive and the accommodation isn't that bad, to boot," the old man added. "We've stayed there ourselves on several occasions."

Nomiya bowed to them. "Thank you for your kindness. My friend and I have been searching for around half an hour and I think this may just be it for us." He looked over his shoulder at the SUV. Yamada was watching them. Through the glass, she appeared blurred and ghostly, but she was real. Nomiya had to believe that she was real. He had to make the most of each golden moment he spent with her, because however much he refused to acknowledge it, there was also the chance that she wouldn't become his.

"Oh, is that her?" the old woman said, following his gaze. "What a _lovely_ lady."

"Indeed she is," agreed the old man, squinting in Yamada's direction. He turned to his wife, back to Yamada, and then back to his wife. "In fact, she almost looks like _you_ when we first met!"

"You teaser, you," the old woman laughed. "Well, now, you'd best run along. It's almost evening, and your lady friend might want a nice rest after your long day. I can tell."

Nomiya bowed again. "Thank you very much."

"Don't mention it, sonny. Always glad to help. We have a boy as well, and he's just gotten married. Seeing serious young couples such as yourselves warms our hearts. You look like a responsible lad, and it seems that you care deeply for this girl. Make sure you do everything you can to protect her, all right?"

Had Nomiya become easy to read? Now even strangers could see through him.

"And be careful on the roads at night, you hear?" the old man said, patting him on the shoulder.

Nomiya smiled. "Yes, we will. Please take care on your way home, obaa-san, ojii-san."

They waved at him as he drove away, and Nomiya wondered when the last time he had called his own parents was.

* * *

><p>And true as the old couple's word, the inn they had recommended, "The Orange Leaf", still had an unoccupied room. It was only one, but it was better than nothing, and Nomiya had no complaints whatsoever because the inn itself was cozy and homey. Just what they needed after a tiring day on the road.<p>

While the innkeeper was busy signing some papers, Yamada tugged at Nomiya's sleeve. She was practically radiating discomfort.

"N-Nomiya-san, I know that we can't help that there's only one room left, but I'm still a bit…" Her voice trailed off and she looked away, blushing.

"Oh, I see your girlfriend is an innocent one," the innkeeper said conversationally; she had evidently been listening in. She was kind-looking and a bit plump, with tightly-curled hair. A mother, probably in her late thirties. "And so cute, too! You're a lucky man, sir. You don't find many girls like that anymore. However, I apologize if you'll have to share a bed. It's king-sized, though, so it won't be too bad."

Nomiya held his hands up in mock surrender and relied on the joking atmosphere. "Yamada, I am neither a maniac nor a pervert. Rest assured that you will be perfectly safe with me. If you like, I'll even sleep in the bathtub if that makes you feel better."

Yamada's face went, if possible, even redder and as a reflex reaction she slapped him. "W-w-w-w-what are you _saying_? Y-y-y-y-you're _embarrassing_ me!" She kept hitting him until he lost all feeling in his arm. This woman was a tiger.

"A pure one indeed!" the innkeeper said, giggling behind her hand. "But again I must disappoint you, sir. I'm afraid your chivalry can't be rewarded. We don't have a bathtub. Only a shower."

Nomiya wasn't daunted. "Then I'll take the floor."

"Very well," the innkeeper said, still giggling. She reached under the counter and gave him a key. "Here you are. We serve breakfast until ten. Please enjoy your stay!"

* * *

><p>As soon as Nomiya opened the door, Yamada leapt onto the bed and rolled around, messing up the crisp sheets.<p>

"This is a really soft mattress! I want ooonnneeeeee!" she said, groaning. "My bed isn't even half as nice as this, this feels _great_. I think it's filled with feathers."

Nomiya flipped on the lights and checked the bathroom. "There are some bathrobes in here. Do you want to take a bath first? Refresh yourself a little?"

Yamada rolled over again. Her bangs were plastered to her forehead. "No, you go ahead. I'd much rather go to sleep."

"But you'll probably feel better if you do." He took off his coat (which Yamada had returned to him a little while ago) and hung it on a hook by the door.

Yamada shook her head. "No, really. You go first. If I wake up in the middle of the night, maybe. Thank you for the offer, though."

_What _am _I going to do with you? _Nomiya couldn't help thinking. But he looked at her fondly, anyway.

He knelt by her head and removed the elastic bands, setting them on the bedside table.

"I'll deal with this. You can try going to sleep if you like."

"Oh… Okay."

He unbraided her hair and combed out the knots as gently as he could. Her hair had become sticky, but it was pleasant to fix it for her. It felt like he was a part of her private life, because this was what close friends did for one another, right? It was a close friend thing. Somehow it was even more intimate than embracing, or even kissing. He didn't want to just be the guy she ran to when she felt like turning her ocular waterworks on, even though that made him feel important. This — being with her in a normal situation, in a normal environment, without her misery hanging over them — felt more meaningful.

"Are you asleep yet?" Nomiya asked after a few minutes of untangling her tresses.

"Nope," Yamada said ruefully. "That feels too good, I can't concentrate on falling asleep."

He kept untangling. "What does?"

She closed her eyes and exhaled in satisfaction. "Your combing."

Nomiya chuckled. "Good to hear. I'm done now."

She flipped over and looked at him. "Thank you very much. My head feels a lot lighter now. Damp braids are heavy."

Nomiya pushed himself up and checked the lone cabinet. Inside he found two extra pillows and a lot of woolen blankets. Taking the whole lot of them out, he threw them onto the floor and arranged them into a makeshift futon. For good measure, he even added some of the many towels; he didn't want a backache to wake him.

Yamada peered over the edge of the mattress, staring at his resourceful solution for the lack of sleeping places. She giggled as he settled himself in and tried it out.

"What's so funny?" he grumbled. "I bet you couldn't last two minutes down here. Think a little before you tease me."

She fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, not meeting his eyes. "You know," she suggested, "as long as you stay on your side I won't mind if we share. I'll feel guilty if you sleep there."

Nomiya sat up. "Are you sure? I'm going to be fine here. I'm tougher than I look."

"Please?" The fact that she was avoiding his gaze made him more self-conscious.

_Well, talk about reverse psychology. But if she wants to, I guess I have no choice._

"All right, then," he said awkwardly.

It took Yamada a while to fall asleep, but gradually her breathing evened out. She must have been exhausted. With her hair still sticky from the yoghurt and soda, what would she look like the next day, Nomiya wondered? Like she had a haystack on her head, most likely. Completely ignorant of his watchfulness, she lay there like a limp noodle and began to snore softly.

Nomiya sat back on the nest of blankets next to the bed and watched her breathe. He bent over her hands and absently traced the lines on her palm, memorizing them with his touch. He pressed his ear to her wrist and listened for the calm sound of her pulse, discovering that it was in sync with his heartbeat.

_Ba-dmp, ba-dmp, ba-dmp._

It was their momentary connection.

Her lips, her collar bone, the creases inside her elbows, the pit of her neck, her eyelids… every inch of her was brittle. Mayama had knowingly damaged her, and Nomiya was left to glue the pieces back together, a painstaking task that shot through him like an arrow, piercing his heart.

He felt too restless to be sitting down, so he headed for the bathroom, closed the door, and took off his clothes. He _earned _this bath.

In the relaxing artificial rain of warm water, his mind raced backwards at full speed, recalling each second he had spent in Yamada's captivating presence. There were too many to count, and each memory was so precious that he wanted to compile them, another folder's worth of digital images, and store them somewhere safe for as long as he was alive. He could open that folder at any time and relive those moments, both the happy and the sad. The water droplets slid down his skin in an inanimate race and joined the miniature river on its way down the drain. His memories of her could disappear just as quickly as that river…

He turned off the shower, weary of the lonely sound, and dried himself off. The towels were downy and perfumed. Come to think of it, the whole bathroom was. Fragrant olives, perhaps?

And as though fate were playing cruel tricks on him for taking a break from the lunacy he had gotten himself involved in, he heard a strangled cry from outside.

Fearing for Yamada's safety, he hastily tied the towel around his waist and wrenched the door open, nearly tearing his shoulder out of its socket. The light fell onto the bed and Nomiya froze.

Yamada was tossing and turning under the sheets, gasping in panic.

He rushed over to her and held her face between his hands, still warm from the bath. Her eyelids were fluttering frantically, but they remained closed. Her mouth was moving too, forming words he could not comprehend. Her lungs were too busy trying to force oxygen into her system because her body seemed to be rejecting all forms of awareness. He shook her, frightened, but she did not respond the way she should have. Her extremities were twitching and she thrashed around like a fish out of water.

"Yamada, wake up! Yamada, can you hear me? Wake up!"

Then she opened her lips.

"Ta…kumi."

Tears leaked out from beneath her closed lids and streamed down her pallid cheeks. They dripped onto his chest, cold and filled with desperate sadness. It was the breaking again. He couldn't handle this, not here, not now. She clutched at him like a life preserver — and she probably thought he was. She was drowning inside her bleak, colorless nightmare, and Mayama was in a beautiful boat, reaching out to her. Mayama was the real life preserver. Mayama was her Angel.

"Takumi!" she kept saying. "Takumi!"

Nomiya wrapped his arms tightly around her and rubbed her back to soothe her. "It's all right, Yamada, you're all right."

"Takumi… Takumi… please…"

He held her more closely and pressed her forehead against hers. He was fighting back the pain, too. "Yamada, I promise it's all right. Takumi…" His voice broke. "Takumi's right here. He's here, and he won't leave you."

"Takumi…" she moaned.

_Do you hear this, Mayama? Can you hear her calling? _Nomiya yelled inside his head bitterly, angrily. He pictured him standing there, clueless and unmindful of their suffering. Mayama's face was void of emotion. _She's looking for _you_! She's here with _me _but it's you she _wants_! I'm cursed with the same name as you, and yet I… I can't make her love me. Don't you see that I'd give _anything _to be in your place? She's so close but I can never quite get to her… She will never be mine because of _you_, do you understand that? You're everything to her, and all you ever do is send her away!_

_ I'll KILL you, Mayama!_

"Takumi!"

Yamada's eyes flew open, and she pulled back to look into the face of her savior. The rims of her eyes were red and swollen from all the crying, and Nomiya could see that she was genuinely shocked to find him there. Because in her dream, he was not "Takumi".

Her mouth trembled. She threw her arms his neck and sobbed anew, a fresh wave of salty tears flowing onto his bare chest. Nomiya continued to rub her back rhythmically. She was feeling guilty. She wouldn't say a single intelligible word, but Nomiya could hear her heart speaking for her.

_Ba-dump, ba-dump._

_I'm sorry_, it said. _I'm so sorry._

He let her sleep against him and had allowed her to cry until her tear ducts had run dry, until she had hiccupped herself into an uneasy slumber. The hush that followed her uncontrollable outbreak was so deafening that he had to sing to himself to keep himself from crashing out of there and murdering the man who wouldn't hold out his hand for this poor, breakable doll of a girl.

_"Sugarinagara oikakete mitemo ashigeri saretemo… aita ana wo fisagou… Chigainai-yai-ya… Tsurainai-yai-ya… Fugainai-yai-ya…"_

_ "Even if I have to cling to you, chase after you, and get kicked down… I'll close the hole that's opened… without a doubt… It's so difficult… It's so cowardly…"_

He kept his own eyes open and patiently watched for the golden tenderness of the sunlight to creep into the dead room.

* * *

><p>This sure is a short fanfic. ^^' It's going to be over real soon, but I like it anyway~<br>This one is particularly dramatic, too... I guess it's because the anime's like that. Jeez, I really wish there were more Honey and Clover fans, it's such a shame... *sigh*  
>Ah, well~ In case there are any of you who are wondering what Nomiya's singing a few lines before the chapter ends, it's the opening theme for the second season, "Fugainaiya" by YUKI. I really like that song, it sums up the anime quite nicely. ^0^<br>Stay tuned till the next chapter~


	4. Chapter 4: Letter for December

"KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

_THUMP!_

"Ouch… Wassamatter?" Nomiya asked groggily, his words slurred by his drunken sleepiness. He had fallen out of the bed, but not by accident; apparently Yamada had thrown him off. His lower body was covered by a few blankets, but other than that he was stark naked.

"W-w-w-w-w-where are your _clothes_?" she squealed, scuttling backwards. He couldn't make her face out clearly because his vision was shifting in and out of focus, but she was so red that her whole head might have been a tomato.

_My… glasses…_

He crawled over to her, looking a lot (though he didn't know it) like what people would call "the undead", his head lolling to and fro. He had lost control of his other body parts.

"S-s-s-s-stay a_way _—"

But Nomiya had already clamped a hand over her mouth, effectively shutting her up.

"Look," he said, his voice low, "I fell asleep at seven-thirty in the morning, and the first thing I hear when I wake up is your screaming. I'm a little less than happy that that was what you used as my alarm clock. So if you don't mind, just give me… five more minutes…"

His hand dropped to the floor and so did he. He was off to dreamland.

* * *

><p>When Nomiya was fully awake (he had slapped himself several times to make sure that he wouldn't pass out at the wheel), they went downstairs, thanked the innkeeper for her hospitality and apologized for the mess they had made, and left, neither of them bringing up the subject of an empty Sunday schedule. It seemed that Yamada had completely forgotten about the events of the previous night, which suited Nomiya just fine.<p>

He dropped her off at her house without so much as a word of farewell, and he returned to Fujiwara Design feeling like a zombie. The moment he stepped through the door, however, he was jerked out of his stupor by Leader, who pounced on him and knocked him to his knees. Miwako-san took advantage of his disorientation and immediately began to beat him around the head with a paper fan she had made out of some flyers.

"How _dare _you come back without Yamada-san!" she scolded him as Leader held him down with his front paws. She didn't normally tell him off like this. Had she finally snapped? "That was your golden opportunity to tell her how you felt, you stupid dunce!"

Yamazaki nodded in approval behind her. "Yeah, I was doing you a favor!"

Miwako-san slapped him again. "How could you waste it like that? You had _two _days and you completely blew it!"

Yamazaki nodded again. "She's right, she's right!"

_Have these two formed some kind of comedy duo while I was away?_

"Well, don't just_ kneel _there, Nomiya, _say _something!" Miwako-san said, preparing to strike again.

"Then why are _you _here so early?" Nomiya spat, unable to hold his tongue any longer. He had been restraining himself, but she just wouldn't _shut up_.

"_I _came back for good reason!" Miwako-san huffed. "One of my buddies got food poisoning and had to go home. The party wouldn't have been as fun without her, so here I am! Where's _your _excuse?" She sighed in exasperation and dropped her angry tone. "Nomiya, you're such an idiot."

This time Leader howled in agreement. "_You got her all fired up, Nomiya-san!" _he seemed to say. So now he was inferior to a dog? This was the pits. The three of them — Yamazaki, Miwako-san, and even Leader — were ganging up on him!

He clenched his hand into a fist and pushed Leader off. He stood at his full height and looked Miwako-san furiously in the eye, enraged. His face was livid. "You want to know the _truth_? Fine! I don't _care _if you call me a spineless wimp! I couldn't do it because Yamada never would have understood!"

Miwako-san drew herself up as well. "So _that's _what you think? But she likes being with you, doesn't she? She likes you too, doesn't she?"

"You go, Miwako-san!"

_Yamazaki's her moral support?_

"So what if she does?" Nomiya challenged, his voice rising until he was shouting. "Does that change anything? Even though I love her, what does it _matter_? She'll never love me back, and I'll never have her! Mayama has her eating out of the palm of his hand, and what about me? What thanks do _I _get? More tears? More apologies? To hell with this, I'm sick and tired of it!"

Why was he pouring out all his emotions? Why was he getting so mad? What was this? This had never happened before. Why did his heart feel like it was being stabbed with a million needles? He didn't like it.

It _hurt_.

"Why am _I _the one who has to suffer for her? I deserve a reward for my _valiance_, don't you think? I was shielding her from everything, from everyone! Because each time I saw her cry, I wanted to _kill _something! That moron Mayama doesn't even _deserve _to breathe the same air as her! I can obviously take care of her all on my own, even if that means bowing down to her father like a slave and humiliating myself! BUT WHAT — DOES — IT — MATTER?"

Leader yelped in fright and hid behind a bookshelf, and Yamazaki went to comfort him, all the while keeping his eyes on the intense battle of wills that was ensuing between Nomiya and Miwako-san. Miwako-san backed away a little. Her aggressive posture became more relaxed and she placed all her weight on one stiletto-heeled foot. She crossed her arms. "So what's the bottom line, Nomiya-kun?"

"The _bottom line_?"All the anger, frustration, and sadness welled up inside him and flared up immediately. "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REPEAT MYSELF FOR YOU TO GET IT? I'M IN LOVE WITH YAMADA AYUMI, DAMN IT!"

Miwako-san glared at him, clearly disgusted with his blatant cowardice. He must have looked like a despicable cur after all the things he'd said.

But then her glower changed into an easy grin, and she put up a triumphant victory sign with her fingers. Just like Yamada.

Nomiya froze, and a few seconds later he thawed himself out to turn slowly around.

There stood Yamada herself, her knees trembling and her eyes filled with more tears. _These_, however, were disbelieving tears. She put her shaking hands to her mouth and fell to the ground.

Yamazaki came out from behind the shelf, holding Leader, and smiled sympathetically. "I called Daddy Yamada as soon as you dropped Yamada-san off."

Miwako-san took Leader from him and squished his paw pads. "You see, while you two were busy losing yourselves Yamazaki and I paid a little visit to Yamada-san's father (but let's call him Daddy Yamada). We informed him about his daughter's current… _distressing _circumstances, and fortunately he agreed to form an alliance with us. Let me tell you, he _did _think you were suspicious at first, but we managed to persuade him that you weren't such a bad guy — he's given you his legendary blessing, Nomiya-kun. He actually drove Yamada-san straight here with a car we'd rented for him. He's waiting downstairs, and if he finds out that you made his adorable daughter cry like that moron Mayama-kun, he'll have your head on a silver platter."

She walked over to Yamada and patted her head. Leader licked her hand as if to say, _"Hang in there!"_ "Well, Yamada-san?" Miwako-san asked gently. "What have you to say to this winded knight in shining armor?"

"I — I never realized that No…Nomiya-san felt this way." She backed up against the wall and sobbed into the heels of her hands. "I never — I hurt him so much — I don't know what —"

"It looks like he really likes you, you know," Miwako-san said, earnest now. "Why not give him a chance?"

Nomiya watched stupidly as more of her valuable tears were spent on his account. Not more of _that_.

"B-but it'll be wrong if I make use of Nomiya-san's feelings for me," she wailed, shaking her head as though she were trying to rid her ears of water. "I'll just be using him t-to forget M-Mayama! If I do that I'll turn _my_ f-feelings for Mayama into lies!"

"Sorry about this, Nomiya-kun!"

"WHOA!"

Yamazaki aimed a ferocious kick at his backside and sent him sprawling before Yamada's trembling, retreating form. Yamazaki winked at Miwako-san and earned himself a thumbs-up.

Swallowing his angst, Nomiya grabbed Yamada's wrist (their eager two-person audience gasped spectacularly) and stared straight into her eyes, willing her to see into his soul — imploring her to believe that everything he had said about his devotion to her was true. There was no longer any room for theatrics and falsehood inside Nomiya Takumi, and this was as authentic as it was going to get. He wanted to be the _only _Takumi in her life.

"Admit it, Yamada," he said, still breathless from Yamazaki's posterior attack, "even if it's only a little, you love me too. It'll take a while for you to get used to it, but I promise I'll make you happy. You'll never have to cry over any other guy anymore."

Yamada's face got redder and redder, and he knew in that instant that she was sharing his ephemeral vision… _The two of them walking hand in hand along the sand dunes up in Tottori… The two of them sleeping next to each other, never breaking their embrace… The two of them standing before an altar…_

Yamazaki and Miwako-san hugged each other and screamed like a couple of hardcore fans at one of their favorite singer's concerts, simultaneously hopping up and down on the spot.

"Ahh, the unrivaled romantic crises of the youth!" Yamazaki said passionately, weeping with pure joy. "It makes me so nostalgic!"

"Yes, the pain and beauty of youthful ardor!" Miwako-san added. "Come, my good man! Let us reminisce and drink till the moon and sun switch places!"

"YES, MA'AM!"

* * *

><p>"Shuu-chan, let us see, let us <em>see<em>!"

Hagu, whose hands were delicately dyed with soft pastel hues, was trying to look over Hanamoto-sensei's shoulder to take a peek at the envelope, but he kept holding it above his head. She'd been trying to take it since he showed it to them.

"Yeah, sensei, just tell us what's inside," Takemoto said. He had just returned from a restoration job in Hiroshima and was significantly tanner than before. "I can't wait to read it! It must be important if Yamada-san entrusted it to you in written form! I mean, she could've sent it by e-mail, right?"

"She's probably being melodramatic," Mayama joked, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. It had been difficult to get him to come back down to the art college, but at Hanamoto-sensei's mention of him missing out on a _lot_ of interesting conversations, he'd instantaneously interjected that he would be there with some meat that they could use for a yakiniku party in exactly two minutes. "But I have to say, I'm pretty curious myself. Will you just open it already?"

Morita nodded vigorously. "I'm sure this has nothing to do with cash, but the suspense is _killing _me! Open it, come on!" He tried tearing the envelope from Hanamoto-sensei's grip, but Mayama pulled him back and held his arms fast. "Aww, Mayama-kun, lemme _see_! It's the least sensei can do! I want him to read it as a welcome-home present for me! I didn't come all the way from America to be bullied! This is _child abuuuuuse_!"

"What do you mean, 'welcome-home present'? The moment your plane landed you dashed out of the airport and took a taxi straight to my place!" Hanamoto-sensei said. "And then you ate Hagu and me out of house and home!"

"Hehehe," Morita said nonchalantly, trying to play innocent. "Did I really do that~? Like, _really_~? Goodness, it's amazing how one forgets things so quickly…"

"Morita-senpai, you never change," Takemoto said, shaking his head.

"If you read it to us right now," Morita said seriously, "I'll buy you and mousey here —" he poked Hagu's shoulder "— meat _every_ week for two months!"

"I say you've got yourself a deal," Hanamoto-sensei laughed. He made a great show of opening the envelope and unfolding the letter as everyone watched with bated breath. Hagu looked nervous and kept gulping.

"Here it is…" he said, his eyes scanning the page. He went back to a sentence he thought he had misread the first time and blinked in surprise. Then he grinned. "Ahem: '_Dearest Hanamoto-sensei, and everyone else, as well (especially Hagu-chan), I hope all of you are in good health. Takemoto-kun, how's work in the province? Morita-san, are you getting enough rest between those jobs of yours? Mayama, you idiot, have you bought Rika-san a birthday present yet? Hagu-chan, have you painted anything new since I last dropped by? If so, I'd like to see a picture. I haven't seen you all in a while because I've gone on holiday. I'm sorry about that. You haven't made any plans for December, though, have you? Because there's going to be a very special occasion_.' What? She stops at Hagu? I can't believe she didn't give _me_, her teacher,any personal concern…"

"What's she beating around the bush for?" Morita complained. "This is _not _why I put in a two-month supply of meat! Get on with it already!"

Hanamoto-sensei's smile became even wider. "Since Morita's so impatient, I'll skip right to the important part: 'Blah, blah, blah… coming home on the sixteenth of November… blah, blah, blah… going to arrange the paperwork for the ceremony… and blah, blah, blah… Nomiya-san and I have gotten engaged and will be married in a church on December eleven.'"

"…you're serious, right?"

* * *

><p>And finally, it comes to a close~! ^0^<br>Well, it seems that there are few NomiYamada fans, but I shall not be daunted! Okay, guys, look out for my next fanfic! (I'm planning to make a Kuroshitsuji one, so let's see how far I actually get. XD)  
>Thanks to all of those who read through this to the end~!<p> 


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